


white noise

by fondofit



Category: Metal Gear, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofit/pseuds/fondofit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venom puts the tape in and listens closely to the orders for his next mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white noise

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of a good mix of MGSV and P.T. Warning for vagueness to the umpteenth degree.

He stares at his own reflection the mirror as he listens to the tape. His voice echoes in the room. He’s listened to the tape so many times the audio’s become warped, and fuzzy. What he’s certain of what has been asked of him, what needs to be done. 

The face staring back at him is nothing like the one back the doctor had shown him in that hospital. He’s become more stronger, healthier… but he is still supposed to be the reflection, the one that not quite whole, the mimic. It’s his reflection, but also _his_ reflection staring back.

The tape cassette player clicks, marking the end of the message, the echoes of sound dissipating into the air. To think it had come to this, have things fallen so far that he had to resort to… No, he always had a reason to push on, whether he was prepared for the results or not.

He thinks back to when he killed the Boss. The decision he had to make then.

_No, that wasn’t you,_ he thinks for a split second.

His reflection tells him differently. _That was you, pulling the trigger. You killed the Boss. You are…_

Taking a deep breath, his fingers slowly loosen their grip on the sides of the steel sink. His digits tingle, red marks on his fingertips as he raises them towards the man looking back at him. His fingers touch the glass, he could do this. He could do this, for _him_ , for himself, for the mission.

—

His fingers dig into the flesh of Kaz’s neck. He can feel each and every muscle tighten and strain, trying to combat the pressure slowly surrounding his airways. His sub commander struggles beneath the weight of his body; the bucking of his waist and the kicking of his legs. The whole thing is much too intimate, more than he could have imagined. The heat Kaz’s body gives off as he struggles, the tensing of his own body to make sure the job is done, the fact that he could be stopped by any unfortunate onlooker at any second… the thrill of taking this man’s life is intoxicating.

He doesn’t think of the shock that must be in those clouded eyes behind the dim sunglasses, but instead he admires how good Kaz looks with his hair tousled, his necktie loose and the top buttons of his pressed shirt undone. The light of the moon outside casting him in an otherworldly glow.

His grip strengthens with the rush that flows through him.

This is his mission; to tie up loose ends. He can’t let this one go.

He can feel the pinprick of nails scraping the skin of his right hand. Kaz’s left hand is trying to pry at his unrelenting grip.

He can’t and won’t let his hands fail him.

He convinces himself that this isn’t betrayal, as if he had known that Kaz was planning to turn on him. With Kaz’s usefulness towards the upkeep of Diamond Dogs ebbing to nothing, he was bound to turn on him. Turn on them. With Diamond Dogs up and running, generating revenue and recruits, there wasn’t much to worry about. They are in the world’s spotlight once again. He thinks to the diamonds set into his gear; how Kaz could eternally join his comrades in death.

He was still a Diamond Dog, after all.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until he feels the pulse underneath his hands slow to nothing, thankful for his prosthetic hand as he feels the muscles cramping in his natural one. When he does let go, he leans in to plant a light kiss on Kaz’s forehead, the salty sweat leftover from their struggle cooling in the air mingling with the warmth of his lips. He remembers loving this man once as he takes off his sunglasses and closes his eyes with the soft caress of his hand.

—

It’s not long after when a message comes in the form of a small yellow package. Inside it is another cassette tape, he assumes it’s another mission, but is surprised when he hears Kaz’s voice coming through the player’s speakers, his voice sounding gruff and distorted.

_“You sick son of a bitch. To think that I– You used me and then you dug your fingers into my trachea and–”_

He can only listen to a third of the half-hour long side of the tape before his vision goes dim, hazy and his legs give out from under him.

He wakes on the tile floor of a silent room and feels tears streaming down his face. The tape is nowhere to be found, but the player is still running. He stops it and leaves the room.

He doesn’t notice the blood flowing from the shrapnel in his head until one of his subordinates runs up to him in a panic.

—

“Venom.”

He hears the sound of his own voice call to him. He turns to see his own reflection standing before him.

No, not a complete reflection. There are minor differences, but they don’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. They’re the same person in the end. He said so himself.

He’s never met the Boss, but he can feel how heavy the gun was in his hand when he ended her life with one shot.

He’s never worked with Cipher, but he knows the burden of being the “ultimate soldier.”

He knows what it’s like to be the man to turn his back on everyone and everything to achieve his own goals.

He knows what it is to be Big Boss.

His reflection brings it’s hand to rest around his shoulders and for the first time after looking in the mirror he panics. The facade threatening to shatter around him. He tries to say the name his reflection told him to call him by, but the words are thick on his tongue and once again he can’t seem to find his voice.

He thinks back to Kaz’s blue tinged lips, the bloated look on his former sub commander’s freshly dead face and he all but crumbles as his reflection pulls him in.

“You did well.”

He freezes, engulfed in himself as the steady breathing of his reflection grounds him. He feels relief flood through his body as the warmth surrounds him. He feels the hot breath against the side of his cheek, caressing him in comfort.

“Not exactly as originally planned or intended, but we can’t always expect these things to go perfectly all the time.” Murmurs the voice so close to his ear. He doesn’t stiffen, but melts into the arms that have slowly surrounded him. They stay like that, as one for a while until his body lulls into sleep.

He awakens with a jolt in his bed alone on Mother Base.

—

He sees him again years later, in a surveillance photo someone had sent to him in an unmarked folder with a note saying _“Look familiar?”_ He recognizes the handwriting, but doesn’t seem to care as much as he about the subject in the photo. He sees Kaz standing with what looks to be a bunch of fresh recruits for the Green Berets. The man is definitely whole and alive.

He drops the photo, his mind racing to make sense of anything when he hears the call come. He never looks back at the photo as he goes to complete his final mission.

Old words echo in his head as he goes to meet his fate.

_“Close your eyes. Let your ears listen to the radio. Do you hear my voice?”_


End file.
